


Of Titles and Tea

by zopponde



Category: Circle Opens - Tamora Pierce, Circle of Magic - Tamora Pierce, Emelan - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 20:28:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/299737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zopponde/pseuds/zopponde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the first time, Sandry is asked a question she should have thought of long ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Titles and Tea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smolder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolder/gifts).



> I was never able to find a Dear Yuletide Writer letter, and there was no real prompt, so I hope that this pleases Smolder.

The sun had long set on the cool Wolf Moon day and despite the late hour, the forge of Daja Kisubo’s residence was full of heat as she drew wire from a well-worked drawplate. Though only a trained eye could see the silver traces of magic in the air, any intruder would clearly see the ease with which she focused on her work, even by the flickering light of the forge.

Somewhere upstairs, the floorboards creaked faintly, and as Daja waxed the wire for the next hole in the drawplate, she cast a tendril of her magic upwards, hoping not to find it to be someone who would disturb her work. Immediately, she identified Trisana Chandler as she descended the stairs. Daja hesitated only briefly to wonder what she was doing, but quickly decided that Tris would have been much more urgent if this were any sort of emergency. She continued her work, knowing that Tris was far too prudent to disturb her for no reason.

She continued even as Tris spoke through their magic. _Don’t you have work to do tomorrow?_ Tris asked.

Daja shrugged, not caring that it wasn’t visible to Tris, as she set her wire to be pulled through the next hole in the drawplate. _I couldn’t sleep, so I’m doing the work now_. For a moment, she focused on drawing the wire, but soon she added, _Why’s it suddenly your business?_

The defensive note could be heard in Tris’s magical voice immediately. _Sandry’s on her way, and she sounds upset, so I figured I’d put some tea on. But if you’re going to be up anyway, maybe you’d like to entertain her so we don’t all be victims of a poor night’s sleep_. Despite the threat, Tris continued down the stairs.

Supposing that Tris wouldn’t do this without good reason, Daja coiled the wire, setting it down, and drew the heat from the forge, leaving enough to bring the flame back to life but dimming it so that it burned less fuel. She took her staff from its propped position by the door and left the forge.

Were she anybody else, perhaps Daja would have run a hand over her clothes to clear the dust, but Sandry would never let her friend and foster-sister wear anybody else's weaving, and so it seemed all ash and dust was simply afraid to settle in the few folds of her clothes.

Soon Daja was in the kitchen, where Tris sat as well, her nose in some book despite expecting company. When a small knock came to the door, Daja answered it. Lady Sandrilene fa Toren stepped in, marginally less upright than she would be in most company. "Good evening, I hope I didn't wake you up," she said, her voice soft but steady as she removed her riding coat.

Daja gave a casual shrug. "I was doing some more work in the forge. Tris saw you coming," she added, "so she's put the kettle on."

"Oh, do you have any of that lavender tea that Briar was talking about?" Sandry asked plaintively, hanging her coat on the rack and brushing invisible dust from her own magical dress. "He made it sound quite appealing."

"I think so," Daja said, and led the way into the small foyer. She sat on one of the chairs set up there, and Sandry nearly fell into the one opposite, spreading her thin limbs across it and yet still somehow maintaining elegance. That's Sandry for you, Daja thought to herself.

"I am sorry to come in unannounced," Sandry said, her voice still subdued and her eyes lidded with exhaustion. "It's just been so busy at the citadel lately. If I have to hear one more complaint about the grain distribution--Mila, my headache is coming back just thinking about it." She massaged her temples with her finger-tips.

Daja nodded but otherwise said nothing. It seemed unusual for her sister to be getting headaches from such a mundane task when she so commonly took such matters at the citadel in stride.

Tris entered then, carrying a tray with a teapot and three cups. Being less hesitant to say something honest—and knowing that they knew she could hear them anyway—she entered with words already tumbling from her lips. “There’s something else going on, isn’t there? You never get this way over grain distribution alone.”

For a moment, Sandry only pouted. She sighed, though, and said, “It’s my cousin, Franzen fer Toren. He will be visiting from Anderran come Seed Moon. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” she confessed, clearly dismayed, as Tris took the seat next to her. “He can be so—so— _royal_ , and I just _know_ he’s going to spend the whole time arguing over the throne’s inheritance, and that will only stress my uncle further.” She wrung her wrists, not wanting to contemplate the result of such undue stress on her great-uncle’s gradually failing heart.

Leaning over, Tris rubbed a hand in circles on her foster-sister’s back, looking up shortly before the stairs began to creak lightly. A small, well-controlled breeze told her who was approaching from upstairs, though the lightness of footsteps had given her a good guess. “It’s just Briar,” she said, trying to keep her voice low in an effort to be calming or reassuring.

Daja sighed and said, “He was awake anyway, wasn’t he? I was working the forge, and he’s such a light sleeper these days.” Tris nodded.

Sandry moved to get up, saying, “Oh, he’ll want a cup for tea,” but Tris shook her head and stood to leave instead. Sighing, Sandry leaned back again with a groan of, “What am I supposed to do? I can’t tell him not to come. I do miss him, in a way, but I know that he’ll only be terrible about the whole inheritance affair.”

Cautiously, Daja poured the tea into two of the cups and offered one to Sandry, who thanked her. After sipping from her own cup, Daja said, “I’m not a politician. I don’t know the answers to these things. But you can’t get yourself so worked up about it that you won’t survive to see it happen.”

“I know,” Sandry sighed, but she did relax as she sipped her tea and exhaled.

Briar entered the room before Tris did and sat next to Daja. A vine of his magic prodded hers, asking for an explanation. Patiently, she gave one, but stopped when Tris entered the room.

“Do you even want to be duchess?” Tris asked immediately.

Sandry sat bolt upright, almost spilling her tea—or maybe actually spilling it, but her clothes were too terrified to let her feel it or show a stain. “Of course I do! I want what’s best for my country, after all!” Immediately, she flushed pink. “Though, I’m not sure if I’ll do the best job possible…”

There was a moment of pregnant silence while Daja berated Tris for bringing up such a complicated subject now, interrupted by Briar quietly saying, “We’ll miss you.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Tris added, “We will.”

Daja shook her head. “There will be room in her council for her _saati_. And besides,” she added, “it’s not our decision.”

All heads turned towards Sandry, but she shook her head. “I don’t need to make a decision now,” she said firmly. Then she frowned. “But if it’s best for Emalen,” she sighed. “I handle quite a bit as it is. I doubt that there will be a big difference. And if it does…” She never finished the sentence, but everyone in the room heard it through magic:

 _I’ll always make time for you._


End file.
